Kenzari of Dawnstar
by Escharian
Summary: The title is temporary until I think of a better one, and I won't promise rapid updates. I write when I get bored, and I'm trying out some new styles of writing. Comments and feedback are welcome. Rating is subject to change. Genres are subject to change.


The crisp smell of books drifted against Kenzari Sturmvyn's nose as she entered the bookstore. It was accompanied with a light jingle of bells above her head, as well as some other scents: candles wax, and the must of old things. Kenzi seemed to have some sort of determination, although she only had a small purse of money at her side. She couldn't be here for much in that case. She went near the back of the store, even older volumes lying on dusty shelves, and her hands gently danced over the ancient covers.

The truth was, most Nords, even most of the inhabitants of Skyrim, highly distrusted magic. Therefore, this part of the store was relatively untouched, as it was to do with just that subject. After a moment of reading the strange runes, not the typical common language of Skyrim, Kenzi's hand lighted upon a certain book.

"Here it is…" she murmurs to herself, pulling it off the shelf and sending a bit of dust dancing off. She blows softly across the aged leather cover to set the dust spinning into the air, before opening the front cover, "A Study in Frost."

Closing the cover again, she heads towards the front of the store. An old man stood behind the counter, more wrinkles than skin, but his eyes shone with wisdom and just a hint of joy. This man was Jorleif Son-of-None, and he happened to be a friend of Kenzi's, at least, more so than most in the town.

"Ahhh. Evening Kenzari. You finished the previous one already?" he questions, referring to the previous book she'd purchased; _A Study in Flame_. She smiles kindly at him, giving a soft nod.

"Aye… it wasn't too much trouble, but the concepts are a little abstract. Perhaps one day I'll make the pilgrimage to the Mages College…" she said, her eyes peering into the distance as her voice trails with a wishful lilt. She'd dreamed of doing that since she was a little girl, and while Winterhold wasn't too far away, it was still almost half a day's journey in the weather of the north.

He bobs his head in agreement with her. While he, like most of Skyrim, was mistrustful of magic, he had no reason to dislike her personally besides that. Kenzi sets the book on the counter carefully, and a small smile cracks across his face.

"Don't you worry about it lass. You've been a better customer than the rest of the town, this one's on me," Jorleif says, and Kenzi's face pales, before she smiles lightly.

"T-thank you Jorleif. I really appreciate it," she says, before tucking her money purse back inside of her cloak. Besides the muddy brown cloak, she wore a rather plain grey tunic and a pair of black trousers. She wasn't exactly the most remarkable girl in the world. Starting towards the door, she tucks the book into the satchel hanging out her side, "I'll make it up to you!" she calls back, that same, slight smile dancing across her face.

He chuckles and shakes his head, watching her leave. He truthfully didn't mind giving the book to the girl, he'd been completely honest. No one else in the town cared quite as much about this sort of thing as she did, except maybe himself. A few moments after Kenzi exited the bookstore, however, the familiar bells jingled.

Jorleif couldn't see the door from where he was standing, but he assumed it could only be her, "Forget something Miss Kenzari?" he calls. When no response came, he raised an eyebrow, but he was busy writing in a big book of his and didn't rise. After a moment, he heard a voice, right in front of the counter.

"You there, shopkeeper. What did Kenzari Sturmvyn purchase?"

Jorleif looked up, and startled a little bit. Down at him stared a man in a fine clothing, which alone was rare this far north; a fine black cloth tunic and pants, belt buckle and broach of silver, and wearing a dark cloak of his back. His face too, was startling. Pale as snow, and eyes of blood, eyes that looked almost… hungry.

Jorleif hesitated. He then spoke, "She was looking into the properties of lavender in potions."

Personally, Jorleif found himself to be a good liar. He'd had to do it many times in his life, and in his old age, no one expected that he'd lie to them. However, the dark figure's dark eyes flashed angrily, and he placed a dagger on the counter. The blade was black, just like the rest of the male's outfit, and jagged in shape, "I'll ask you again. Only once."

Jorleif realized he may want to be honest with this man, one who held and air of power unlike most in this town. Even the Jarl didn't scare him as much as this man did, and that was saying something. "She purchased _A Study in Frost_. You can understand why I would be untruthful, the mistrust of magic is widespread in Skyrim," the old man says, swallowing slowly.

The dark figure nods slowly, before smiling lightly, and his Jorleif's eyes widened as he watched the man change before him, his eyes shifting from red to a pleasant blue. Jorleif was startled, and about to stand, before he was onset with certain calmness… he didn't know what was wrong.

"Thank you my friend. Perhaps you could tell me where Miss Kenzari lives?"

Jorleif wouldn't have normally answered such a question, but he found his lips moving about unbidden, "Aye, o'course. Just down the road, past the Jarl's longhouse and around the bend. Look for the yew sprig nailed onto her door."

The figure, no longer seeming quite so dark, smiled, and this time Jorleif smiled back. He felt like he was talking to an old friend, not a stranger, "Thank you, Jorleif Son-of-None. Your life was worth something."

The old man didn't flinch at the fact that the man somehow knew his full name, or at how easily he mentioned his life. He watched with that same smile as the man began to walk around the counter, and stood in front of the old man, "Ick… I really despise old blood. It always tastes stagnant… ah well…" the figure murmurs, before in a flash the dagger was in his hand, gripped in his dark, metal-accented glove.

There was a sickening sound of metal sinking into flesh and a gurgle of lifeblood leaving body, and then, Jorleif laid back against the counter, the blade in his gut.

Smiling, Kivram Ragnvald, or as he would like to be called, Lord Ragnvald, raised the wrist of the old man to his lips, before baring his teeth. Two of his teeth, the eyeteeth, were pointed. They sunk into flesh easily, and a gruesome slurping sound filled the shop as he feasted.

Kenzi's home smelled of lilacs, and was rather cheery on the inside. She had many paintings about, but not many mirrors; truthfully, she was very self-conscious about her appearance, and didn't need the distraction. She painted for enjoyment, thus the amount of art around the room, and much of the space in her home was occupied by bookshelves and canvases. There was only so much space to move about, her bed was a little lumpy, and one of the bookshelves was uneven and supported by a book she didn't particularly like so it stood flat. She loved it.

She seated herself in front of her desk and set down the book, pushing aside the previous volume in the series which was still in that spot. They were her books, so she wrote all over them, jotting down notes about the passages inside and other such things, and she'd often mark pages with little strips of leather, so naturally the books were filled with them.

Naturally, a new book meant she would set to it immediately. For the next several hours, she was pouring through the study, jotting down notes and such. She didn't expect a harsh banging on her door in the late hours of the night, but then it came. She'd at least had the sense to have a little to eat, but she did stand up and walk towards the door. Opening it, she found two guards standing there, immediately behind the Captain of the Guard.

The Captain bore a grim expression, one of someone who had to do something he truly did not wish to do, before his gravelly voice stirred Kenzi's ears, "Kenzari Sturmvyn, first and only born of Jakob Sturmvyn, Daughter-of-None, you are wanted for the murder and maiming of Jorleif Son-of-None. Will you come along peacefully?"

Kenzi felt her stomach twist. She almost threw up. Jorleif was dead? Why was she to blame? "W-what…? I was just with him this afternoon!"

"We know. No one else went into the store until this evening, when the murder was reported. I repeat, will you come along peacefully?"

Kenzi bit her lip, before nodding as she stepped towards them, "I don't really have a choice…"

She was lead from her home in silence, and through the night air. Around the town, several children had their noses pressed against windows and some men and women stood in their door frames, watching her pass. Crime was a rarity in such a small hold, and for one of the gentlest girls in the town to commit murder? Impossible.

Due to her reputation, Kenzi was not bound on the way into the jail. She blushed red as she was frisked for any weaponry, before given rags to change into, which she did, one there was no one watching. She was then closed into the cell.

Kenzi sat down on the bed with tears welling in her eyes. Her friend was dead; she was accused of his murder. How could it have turned so bad? Everything had been perfectly happy an hour ago, and now…

Lapsing into sobs, she pressed her face against the rolled-up bag that was her pillow in this sell, and then decided against it when she realized how it smelled. She gagged a bit and wiped her face, and settled into simply sitting there; tears streaming down her face.

Naturally, she wasn't expecting visitors. She wasn't exactly the most outgoing person in the town, mostly shy although friendly to those who actually spoke to her. That's why she was surprised when someone arrived at the bars. Someone tall. Someone dark. Someone absolutely horrifying in appearance, until her eyes alit on his, and she felt the fear that was gathering wisked away into a deep, piercing blue.

"Hello Kenzi."

The two words sent an odd shiver down her spine, although she couldn't pinpoint whether it was apprehension … or anticipation. She slowly nodded, followed by a silence. It was only then she remembered she was supposed to greet someone back, "H-hello…" she says quietly, rubbing under her eyes as she tried to get rid of the puffiness from crying and the dirt from the cell.

"I'm sorry you got blamed. May I come in?" the strange male asked, and Kenzi nodded, despite having no idea how he had keys. It appeared he did, however, for when he pulled on the bars the door slid open, admitting him. Kenzi found herself unable to look away from his face, for some reason, and her eyes remained there, or rather, locked on his eyes. If one were to ask her how he appeared later on, she'd only describe his eyes; everything else was a blur.

"Do you know who I am?" he asks, staring down at her. She shook her head. "No… of course you don't…" he mutters, seeming annoyed in spite of his words.

She didn't speak for a moment, before quietly managing to say, "S… should I?"

It was his turn to shake his head, "No, probably not. I don't suppose Katrina stayed around long enough to teach you," he murmurs, thinking out loud more than likely. Kenzi, however, heard him, and her mother's name made her heart skip a beat.

"H-how do you know my mother?" she asks, curiosity adding to her trance as she stared at him. He looks to her, before growling.

"I'm here for a reason," he states, not answering her question. He then pulls out a dagger; jagged, black, and slightly reddish when light hit it.

Kenzi could only see it in her peripheral, her eyes still stuck on his, but she did flinch a bit, "What are you…?" she begins, but she could see him raise his wrist up, and then the blade bit into flesh, leaving a line of red. She snapped out of the trance finally, looking down at his wrist, "Oh God! Are you alright?" she asks, holding out a hand. Suddenly, his hand came up to shove against her chest, just below her neck, and hold her against the wall.

"Shut up," he says, before his wrist was against her lips. She started to struggle, her eyes going wide, as she tasted bitterness that made her gag a little bit, stinging her throat. In that moment, there was a shout outside of the cell. The man's eyes, now that she was broken from the trance, were golden, beautifully golden, which seemed unfair considering his terrifying features.

A guard stood there, his eyes wide with horror as he looked at what was going on, before he went for his blade. The creature atop Kenzi –whatever he was, it certainly wasn't human- leaped off her and bolted for the window. The window, not the door. Kenzi watched as she spat out blood, trying to get it out of her mouth and throat. It burned, an actual pain in her throat, but still she watched. Although it hurt, she was unable to hold back a gasp, echoed by the guard, as the man suddenly burst to pieces, mist in the air, and vanished out the window.

The knife had fallen in the creature's haste to run, and now, it was laying upon the floor. Kenzi slowly stood up, picking it up and holding it out to the guard, "H-here… I'm probably not supposed to have weapons…" she murmurs. He gives her a look, and she only now actually took in his appearance. Sandy blond hair, cut short, chocolate brown eyes and a light dash of freckles across his cheeks. He couldn't have been more than twenty, and she herself was only nineteen. It wasn't uncommon for one to be working such at this age, however. Men and women started apprenticeships around twelve.

He hesitantly took it, "I don't think you did it, if it matters to you…" he says, looking at her. He was a bit taller than her, perhaps three or four inches, so he was peering down. She knew he looked familiar, but she couldn't place her finger on the name at the moment. She sighed, before heading back towards the bed.

"I appreciate it… tell the Jarl that…" she mumbles, rubbing her eyes. Whatever that guy had been doing, hopefully she was safe from him now. She didn't like how she had been so easily controlled, her brain having been fogged up. It definitely confused her.

The man sighed, before departing. Silence took over the jail for a little while, but something slid between the bars a little later. The man had returned, for just a moment. He'd given her a towel that could double as a blanket or pillow, a small mirror, a bowl of warm water to wash her face, and a bit of food. Just as soon as he'd come however, he had departed, not wanting to stay apparently.

Kenzi did clean off a little bit, and eat some, but she didn't check her reflection. She was as self-conscious as ever, even in jail. She would have, in fact, not touched the mirror at all, had she not seen a glimmer of golden in it. She shifted, looking into it, before screaming.

Her eyes… they were like his. _Gold_.


End file.
